Sae sits at her desk. Smoothing her gray hair back, it's almost impossibly soft. An array of cases lay scattered across the wood of her workplace. She grumbles to herself. Psychotic breakdowns. That's what they've been labeled. Those two words have been plaguing her for months. And at this rate, she doesn't think it'll stop for months either.
A central fixation on Tokyo. Never have there been two incidents simultaneously in different locations. This implies the presence of a small group, or even an individual. But that's just speculation. And she isn't a detective unlike a certain infuriating coworker. That annoying ever-present smile of his she just knows is fake. He's so proud of it too. The smug little bastard thinks he's such an amazing actor.
But enough about him. The detective isn't here right now, so she could care less from wasting her time thinking about him and his perfect deductions. It's honestly a little absurd how spotless his record is. Not that hers has been much different since she stepped foot into the corruption of the legal system.
Psychotic breakdowns. The entire notion is absurd. Not in that people can act so rashly and be ailed by mental conditions. No, that's common. But the severity of each event. It's like the act of a terrorist - only less sporadic. And the current hysteria building as a result has been nothing short of historic. It poisons her every waking moment. Crawling it's ugly way right into her head and ruining moments of leisure like it's a job. But here, at her desk, it's a focus and a rather irritating one. Even the usually overzealous Akechi hasn't been any help at all. The police, private investigators, doesn't matter who. There's hardly an inkling of a hint to whom the perpetrators are, and so there's nothing she can do. A prosecutor with no one to prosecute is the image of uselessness itself. And what a worthless thing that is.
But that isn't something to think about either. The day's over. Despite the numb headed insistence of their director, their ability to work is null and void when it comes to this case. As severe and important as it is, there's nothing that can be done.
So she packs her files into her bag with meticulous care. Closes and locks the door to her fairly spacious yet empty-looking office. There isn't anything to characterize it distinctly besides the usual mounds of paperwork. But that could be anyone's office.
At the very least, today she won't miss her train line. The streets are much busier than she'd expect given the hour. Sure, they're downtown, but it's late. This kind of traffic is definitely abnormal, so she's glad she's not pulling her hair out in a taxi. She takes long strides toward the train station, thankful for its proximity to the high court. Honks blare out. Sirens wail. Again, a little abnormal, but nothing that makes her raise an eyebrow. She's too driven by the allure of her bed and the sleep it promises.
However, she isn't so lucky as to have a normal day. The train station is packed. Chock-full of people. But they don't seem to be rushing to enter. The stairs down to the station are completely obscured by swaths of people. Cameras flash and cut into the billows of smoke illuminated by harsh street lights. As if someone just decided to have a fire right down there in the train station.
Screams echo in an indistinguishable cacophony of noise. Yelling and other nonsensical sounds come from the crowd. What police are present struggle to mobilize and push the crowd away. A pair of ambulances look overwhelmed. Hideous looking people are carried out on stretchers and even by hand. Firefighters direct the operations however they can. The worst of them are missing entire limbs. Skin gone from faces like it's been torn off as easily as wax melting from a statue in the heat. Skin charred unnaturally black and molting. Literally bubbling as if by the will of some unseen fires. It's truly horrific. And these are the ones that are alive, they certainly don't look it.
Officers order people away from the station in cyclical repetition. But it's mostly ignored. The sheer numbers of the people won't be dissuaded. And the police aren't exactly willing to start shooting. It hasn't gotten to that point yet.
Sae pushes her way through the crowd. No longer focusing on any notion of going home. Instead, she has to see for herself what exactly is going on. Absent-mindedly a thought flits through her head. That boy. The delinquent one. Wasn't he supposed to arrive at my home today? I'd forgotten. She shakes her head. Not that she has to keep up appearances in front of someone who may or may not be a criminal, but in the event he really was rightly accused, it'd be bad if she wasn't even there to take him in for probation. Who knows? Maybe he's out breaking and entering at this very moment thanks to her negligence. But that's a pretty idiotic line of action even for a criminal. And she doesn't give that any more consideration.
Finally, through nothing but force, she emerges from what must've been hundreds of people. The authorities haven't even fully set up police tape. Not that it'd do much. And it's obviously not a priority with all the injured.
The noise is louder here, but different from what's above. Down in the station are cries of the wounded and the silence of the dead. A train rides up on the platform. The nose or the cockpit of it crumpled. Metal twisted into misshapen forms from where the initial impact occurred. The ground of the platform has been torn up viciously by where the train derailed. It flipped all the way to end up on its side. As if an earthquake tore through the underground of the station. Firemen run into the cars where the blaze is at its most intense. Fearlessly diving into the fray so as to save as many as possible. But the fires blaze so bright. Unless they arrived immediately, Sae has no doubt many must've died in the fires. To no fault of the firemen. They're an image of heroism, and undeniably so. But it was a disaster that couldn't have been predicted.
But framing that Image of heroism is a boy that surpasses it. Redefining the concept with his own hands as he lifts a woman out of the fiery hell that is this crash. Stepping carefully over corpses through the window, stumbling his way out through smoke and flame. He carries her out on his back, taking steps that must be excruciatingly painful.
Sae is transfixed by the sight. Her expression is nothing if not awestruck. Like a child witnessing her first Christmas, she stands there, sliding her work bag off her shoulder. Sure, it has important files in it. An expensive laptop with valuable data for her work. And sure, this might be the worst time and place to leave it behind, but that isn't even a consideration. So focused is she, that her usual calculations fall out the window, and shatter it on their way out. Her mind narrows to the scene playing before her eyes. Similar to the feeling of being caught in an impossible spectacle. Like witnessing a tornado or a tsunami with your own eyes. It's almost beautiful in its impossibility, even if it promises with it destruction.
Why? She wonders in absurdity. What drives you? What makes you wish to extend your hand to others?
Ren hauls her up to the side of the train, and firemen lift him out of the burning fires. As they enter the fray once more, Ren stumbles along to the edge of the train in all of the chaos. His lips move, but she doesn't hear him. Instead, seeing how he sways uneasily, she begins to sprint over to the edge of the platform. As he falls forwards, he lands right into her arms. She saves him from the ground. Mauve red blood covers his hands and parts of his face. His hair is matted with sweat and something darker than blood. Oil, maybe? He's in quite the state.
Sae stands and pulls him away from the wreckage as he finds his way to his feet again. He coughs into his elbow, shaking off particles of soot before looking up to her.
"Niijima, right?"
"That's correct." She says with a little sigh. Breathing down here isn't exactly all too easy, so she leads him to exit the platform. "Let's get you out of here."
Ren's head lolls onto her shoulder, the spitting image of exhaustion. She throws his arm over her shoulders and tucks him a little closer with her left arm. This feels right. It isn't much, but heroes like him deserve to be saved as well. This is the least she can do.
Sae takes him up the steps and out of the station. Once they're far enough from the chaos, she brushes the soot from his face with a handkerchief. It turns from white to black and she casts it aside to the sidewalk below.
Rummaging around in her work bag, which she retrieved before leaving, she notices his eyes following her hand. Good. He's getting more alert.
Near the forefront of her personal copies of case files includes Ren's. His personal information, such as his name, age, blood type, nationality. The basics. Most importantly, his mugshot and other official governmental photos. So it isn't entirely a surprise the faces match up, especially because she's spent a fair bit of time examining his file, his face was fresh in her memory.
"What you did was incredibly dangerous. You obviously put your life on the line, and for people that didn't know you. Why? What point is there to saving people who might not save you? Were you simply not thinking of the possible repercussions?" Sae grills him. "You probably won't be commended for your actions today. Is that fine with you?"
Even though it's a lot of questions at once, it's not difficult for him to give an answer. "Yeah. It's fine. There were people that needed help, so I helped. I was the only one… I couldn't stop the train. So I had to help."
"Even at the cost of your own life? Who would you be able to save if you died?" She asks a rhetorical question.
"I don't want to think of myself in a situation like that." Ren says. "People were burning and dying. If I was thinking about my own life in a time like that, I'd be an unforgivably selfish coward." Ren clenches his fist, reaching far out, as if sometimes just out of reach. And to her surprise he starts to cry. "I was so, so close. It's my responsibility. If I'd just been a little faster, a little stronger, I'd have reached them. But that's not who I am."
Sae offers him no consolation. "Valuing your own life isn't selfish. And if it is, you need to grow more of an ego. But, moving on, do you need to go to the hospital? If you were in that crash, you'd have to be injured somewhere."
Ren averts his eyes, looking almost ashamed. His back straightens, and then he tries to fix his gaze on hers, yet curiously doesn't meet her eyes. "No. Please don't. Even if I look bad, I'm more than fine."
Sae looks him up and down dubiously. Her expression clearly written across her face. She exudes an air of distrust. She clearly doesn't believe him, but, thankfully, she doesn't inspect his injuries. "If you insist." Sae grunts. Giving him space to walk on his own now. "Follow me. We're getting a cab. And don't even think about darting off. I'm assuming you're aware of my profession?"
"Yes ma'am. I apologize." He replies carefully. He wasn't really considering it before in all of the chaos. But now, he's remembering exactly who he's in the presence of. In both his probation, and her job, she holds his life. And so, Ren adjusts accordingly. He schools his expression and blinks his tears away with ease. Like an actor switching scenes, his emotion disappears as If the cameras just cut away.
At this time of night, the unlikely pair is rendered inconspicuous. It's not like there's anything to look for, with the exception of the blood staining his clothes. And there's no one to look at those things either. A cab responds relatively quickly to summons as the dead of the night isn't fully underway. Sae engages in the bare minimum of pleasantries, and then focuses back on the boy to her side.
"Were you on the train when it crashed?"
"Yes ma'am."
Her head tilts ever so slightly to the left. Just a few degrees as her eyes move contemplatively. "You said you weren't fast enough. What were you referring to?"
"I tried to stop the train, Niijima."
"And what did you do to facilitate that?"
"I moved to the front of the train to stop it, but the pilot attacked me. He was acting erratically ma'am. No matter what I said, he wouldn't respond."
"Acting erratically? How so?" She asks, leaning into the open space between them, as they're separated by an empty seat. She seems to have caught a second wind of sorts.
"His eyes. There we're different. And beyond that, he was unresponsive when I tried to reason with him. He was the one who made us accelerate to full speed, and brought us to the crash at that station."
"That's it, then." Sae decides aloud. "Another psychotic breakdown. At the station closest to both the diet and the high court no less. judging by the scale of things, the culprit is feeling more confident. More lives lost. What would be the logical next step? Where will they choose next?" She's almost murmuring to herself. Wracking her brain to find the solution. It isn't technically her job, but it's their case. She's invested.
Soon enough, however. And before she can make any significant headway, they're stepping out of the taxi and she's paying the fare.
Ren seems a little surprised at that, having already reached into his own pockets. But she makes no comment, so he doesn't bring it up.
She takes long strides and then opens the door to her apartment. A rather nice looking one as well. Modern, but not so much that it's futuristic and boring.
"Ground rules." Sae says gruffly as she ushers him through the door, locking it behind them both. It's an automatic lock that, upon the press of a button, whirs shut. As a precaution of sorts, she also uses a more old fashioned latch from behind the door. A second line of defense. "If you break something, you'll pay for it. Your curfew will be at 20:00 hours. You'll be in the door no later than that. So long as you follow my rules, we won't have any issues."
Ren seems to tense ever so slightly at that. He purses his lips, and gives a rough nod. As if something's caught in his throat. But he gives no complaint. She seems to take up all of the space of the doorway. In comparison to her, his form is diminutive. He hunches in on himself, his shoulders slack, and he's just a few inches from the wall. She seems to look down on him disapprovingly, not that it's possible to look up at someone shorter.
Sae looks him up and down, but elects not to comment on his injuries. "You still have school tomorrow, so go to sleep. I won't allow you to avoid your education. If you skip, I'll be aware of it." She slides her shoes off before stepping onto the marble floors in only socks. He does the same, a basic gesture of courtesy.
Not far from the doorway, she brings him to a room. It's not huge, but it's just as nice as his old one, if not nicer. There's nothing you'd say is wrong with the room, but the lack of a window is a bit unfortunate. The furnishings cover all the essentials. It isn't especially lavish, but he doesn't much care for that. A bed is better than he expected to receive.
"Why did you take me in?" Ren asks, and he seems to regret the question as soon as it leaves his lips. "I'm a criminal, right? Why would you bring a person like that into your home?"
"It wasn't much more than a whim." Sae replies, working out a kink in her neck. "But there's a more concrete reason. Something about your case still doesn't make sense. So, I want to figure out what that is. What exactly is wrong with your case, and why. That's all." She opens her mouth as if there's more to say, but decides against it. "Goodnight." She says instead,
Ren's more tired than he thought at the mention of rest. Without much protest, he makes himself comfortable. Carefully laying towels on the bed under the blanket to make sure he doesn't bleed into the sheets, he quickly changes, and falls asleep.
The clock tells Makoto the new day's just beginning. Usually, she'd be long since asleep.
She remembers the conversation well. Only a few days ago, Sae floated the idea over to Makoto. Only by then, she'd already set the paperwork in motion. So how could she have expected Makoto to refuse? No. There was not going to be any refusal because she'd already made up her mind.
Makoto grits her teeth at the sight of the boy. To take a guy just a year Makoto's senior into their apartment? And a criminal nonetheless? Questioning Sae's sanity has become a too common a passtime for her liking. After all, this was Sae Niijima. The 'I have everything all put together' Sae. The Sae who spends an extraordinary amount more time in her office than at home. The eldest Niijima, who doesn't seem to understand the concept of a vacation, and who scoffs at the idea of a break.
She perfectly embodies not just Makoto's ideal, but the ideal. A woman who's forged her own path in a male dominated society. What is that if not an image of an impeccable life?
That's exactly what makes this so utterly confusing for Makoto. What use would she have for a criminal? Where would there be any worth in that risk? That's exactly why Makoto doesn't want to imitate her sister.
As an outside observer, Makoto feels she has an important perspective from which to judge her sister's actions. And Makoto knows that she doesn't want to be her sister. She wants to be better.
They didn't notice her, and Sae seems to go to bed as he does the same, as ordered. Makoto doesn't know why she's slinking around. Even if Sae is detail oriented, it's not like she can see through walls.
Makoto slinks out from the living room and into the hallway just before the door. Finding the right drawer, she procures a single cigarette.
Closing the apartment door behind her soundlessly, Makoto finds a spot around the corner. Far enough that she feels comfortable. She brings the cigarette to her lips and silences her nerves. With a flick of the lighter, it catches, and a flame is born.
Makoto sputters and coughs, barely able to take half a breath of the fowl air, she drops the cigarette. The flame dies quickly and pathetically as tears well up in Makoto's eyes. She wipes her mouth, as if that'll clear the taste from her mouth. Makoto's eyes widen and she stomps the cigarette into the ground.
Why? Why can't I do it? Why Can't I do what she does?
Ren couldn't picture exactly what he was expecting for the first day of school. Not a word was exchanged between him and Sae in the morning. She looked at him curiously. With a gaze just short of a passive gaze. As if looking at him might reveal some long lost secret about his person.
Obviously, that wasn't the case.
Ren reluctantly crams his way into the train. If there's one saving grace, it's not long until his stop at Aoyama Itchome. Despite the numbers of people forced together like marbles in a jar, it's relatively silent.
After disembarking, not long after he leaves the station he bumps shoulders with a rough looking, blonde haired boy. Surprisingly, this kid's hair is messier than his own, but Ren paid his extra attention this morning so it was something presentable. His yellow shirt is almost glaringly bright, and his school uniform is left open over it. Judging by his striped black and red pants, he's also from Shujin like many around here.
"You got a problem?" He asks pointedly, stepping into Ren's space.
"No." Ren replies. Stepping back. Looking to move around without further comment.
"I don't recognize you." He says, a vague suspicion in his voice.
"I'm new here." Ren offers.
"New? So you're a first year?"
"No. I'm a transfer student."
"Oh. I heard something about that. Well, it's nice to meet ya. Name's Ryuji Sakamoto."
To Ren's surprise, he doesn't extend a hand to shake. Instead, Ryuji leans against the wall nonchalantly. It looks like he's still sizing Ren up. "Ren Amamiya." he replies.
"Oh? Don't tell me you're sulking, Sakamoto." An almost teasing voice interrupts their meeting. "You know there's a spot for you on the volleyball team, right?"
Ryuji turns quickly on his heel to face the man, his expression twisting into frustration. He's really tall, and well built too. Maybe towering over them more than Sae would, but not nearly as intimidating as she is. His smile is wider than his eyes are willing to meet. Somewhere between a grin and a normal smile. His curly black hair extends down from the top of his head almost like a crown, widening as it falls. And his nose is rather long and wide. To his left, is a notably shorter woman. Her outfit, like Ryuji's, is slightly altered from the norm. With red stockings, brown leather boots, and a white zipped up tracksuit, flanked by her black Shujin uniform which is left open. Her hair is more of a dyed blonde than Ryuji's, less strikingly yellow. Their outfits make his seem plain in comparison, but that's convenient. He'd rather not stand out.
"I ain't joining your team. Not in a million years!" Ryuji says with a huff, taking a stand off the wall now.
Kamoshida's arm winds tighter around the woman at his side, and she seems to wince as if it hurts. Looking at the arm around her shoulders with her eyebrows furrowing.
"Now isn't that rude. I was praising your athletic talents, you know. You're not nearly as talented as Ann here, but if you joined my team, I'd definitely put you to work." He rolls his eyes. "I'll let it slide though. It's just a shame, really, how you ruined the track team with your outburst back then. But, I'm offering you a choice."
Kamoshida ushers Ann into his car, and she enters without a word, into the passenger seat. Then, he offers a hand to Ryuji expectantly. Offering a drive to school.
"I already told you. I'm not joining your team, not ever." Ryuji replies.
Kamoshida scowls, all expressions of the easy smile gone. He takes two steps forward and grabs Ryuji by his shirt, nearly lifting him up off the ground. Like a bike with the seat too high, he has to tip toe to contact the sidewalk. Naturally, a sound of ripping emerges. Kamoshida's forearm veins bulge as he pulls Ryuji in close.
"Let go of me, god dammit!" Ryuji yells. He thrashes around in Kamoshida's grip, both of his hands clamping down hard on Kamoshida's arm.
"Just don't get in my way." Kamoshida says. "You're nothing but a burden to this school." Lifting him like it's nothing, he throws Ryuji away. Ryuji nearly stumbles, but gets his footing just before falling back into the wall.
As soon as he regains balance, he's running toward the car, but by that time Kamoshda's already started driving off casually. After a few dozen meters, Ryuji clutches his leg and tapers off quickly into a walk. Ren, having followed him, is surprised.
"That - That pervert!" Ryuji decides to say.
"Pervert?" Ren asks for elaboration.
"Yeah. Always walking around like he owns the damn school. Like he's the king of a castle!" Ryuji turns and kicks a garbage can. It's pretty full, so it doesn't fall over. He winces, and begins to walk it off. "Well, whatever. You comin?"
"Yeah." Ren says, keeping step with him.
"School isn't too special, well, unless you're into academics." Ryuji starts, scruffing his hair up at the back of his neck. "As you can see, they aren't exactly my forte."
Ren seems content to listen for now, so Ryuji takes that as a cue to continue.
"That guy really gets on my nerves, dude."
"Why's that?" Ren asks.
"Don't give me that!" Ryuji snaps, but then he eases up, his expression changing. "Ah, you're new. Sorry man, I forgot. Really. It's just he's such an asshole I don't get how people don't see it. They do! I swear they do, but the school won't do shit about it because he's their prize pony!"
"What do you mean?" Ren asks. He feels like he's asking the same questions over and over, but he's pretty out of the loop so there's no other choice.
"Well he's the star of the volleyball team, right?" Ryuji says. "So the principal and everyone else treats him like some saint. But he doesn't even try to hide all the shit he pulls. I've heard bad things about his volleyball practices, man."
"Bad things?" Ren echoes. His eyes unfocusing even as he looks at Ryuji.
"Yeah. Kids getting hurt way too often. That, and what happened with the track team… It ain't no coincidence. I might not be all that smart, but I can tell it's the same shit. And, god, the way he just gets away with it is pissin me off!" Ryuji's arms tremble in his anger as he walks stiffly.
"Are you going to do something?" Ren asks.
"I've gotta do something! Nobody else will do jack." He huffs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You gonna help me out?"
All of a sudden, they're near the school gate. It's just 20 meters or so, not far at all. They're standing in an alley, not one to fear though, especially not midday like this. Ryuji extends his hand now, expectantly. Clearly he doesn't really want other people to know about this. Either that, or he's assuming nobody else will know or care to join him. Maybe he's already tried, been rejected, and since given up. Ren would wager it'd be pretty difficult to hitch students on a plan to take down a teacher with such a gleaming reputation.
"If he's hurting people, I'm in."
"That's all you've got to say, man!" Ryuji says, pulling him in by his hand and giving Ren a few rough pats to his back. Then, the world brightens.
Ren's hair sweeps up and across his face. Soft, black strands crisscrossing to the will of the wind, gentle in its worship. Ren's eyes widen a little, and the air seems so much more crisp all of a sudden. The normality of the city and its dry air isn't really noticeable without something to contrast it with. Like the smell of your own home, it's something you get used to. And you don't realize it's there until someone else points it out.
The leaves rustle gently with the breeze and the world seems positively alive. Silent, yet with calming noise, so far from the constant ringing of cars in the big city. Ren blinks a couple times. The roar of the ocean isn't far off. But it can be loud even when you're not right at the water. Ren feels that weird mix of give and firmness of sand beneath his shoes.
"You know it wasn't your fault, right?" Ryuji says.
"What?"
"I wouldn't have it any other way. I guess that's what I'm saying. There isn't a leader I'd rather have, Joker!" Ryuji says with a big grin on his face. "You've changed my life man! For that, I'm always gonna be grateful."
"I don't understand. Why are you smiling?" Ren asks.
"Is there a problem with that?" Ryuji asks. A car whooshing by as he takes his hand from Ren's shoulder. "You're looking a little weird dude. Somethin up?"
Ren's head swivels to the expected scenery of the city. The alley where they're standing. "Don't mind me. It's nothing. Just a bit spacey." He says, shaking his head like there's water in his ears.
"Alright, so what do we do?"
"Isn't this your thing?" Ren asks. "You know the school, and the teacher. I wouldn't want to take charge."
"Well, yeah, I guess. But I didn't really think I'd get this far. We've gotta brainstorm or somethin'."
"So we have to get back at him, but we don't want to get expelled for assaulting a teacher either." Ren says. "So we can't count on the faculty or the police right?"
"Yeah, probably. Don't have evidence, right? So would they believe us?"
"No." Ren replies, pulling his phone out from his pocket. The clock reads 7:47 am. "Probably not. Let's go in so we can keep talking."
Walking together out of the alley, the school looks almost unbearably gray. It's not really an intimidating building. It isn't towering at only three stories. But for such a prestigious school the lack of artistic appeal is surprising.
"If we want to do this, we'll have to be untraceable." Ren says as they pass through the school gates with swaths of other students.
"Yeah. Can't be gettin suspended."
Ren pushes through the door and holds it for Ryuji who thanks him.
Ryuji stops in the middle of the entrance hall of the school. Ren looks over at him questioningly, then notices where he's looking. There's that hulking teacher again. He's leaning in over the blonde one, Ann, Ryuji said her name was. A distant childhood friend of his. And there she is, getting fondled by the older teacher. They're both facing away from the crowd, but there's no hiding Kamoshida's hand on her butt as he talks in her ear. Ren can only partially see her face, but she's biting down on her lip, hard. It couldn't be more obvious that this isn't what she wants. How long she's put up with this, Ren doesn't know.
Ryuji's jaw is tight. He seems to have forgotten his limp. The sound or Ryuji's footsteps seem to just be evident over the talk of the kids in the hall as he takes determined strides toward Kamoshida. With his back turned, and his attention occupied, Kamoshida doesn't raise his head.
All hopes at a plan are clearly off the table. Although Ren could still stop Ryuji before he rashly intervenes, he doesn't want to. He's feeling pretty disgusted himself. Ryuji's completely right. Someone has to do something, and why not them?
Ren follows just a stride behind Ryuji. It's quite reminiscent of what happened with his court case just a year ago, and that only makes Ren nervous. He's in a precarious spot already. It's obvious that he can't just let Ann get assaulted like this. His belief hasn't changed that how these men act is completely out of line. But maybe he should just step back now. It's the first day. This isn't his battle. Ryuji can handle this on his own. This is personal, after all. It wouldn't make sense for Ren to intervene.
So Ren stops in his tracks. Ryuji doesn't even notice, closing the distance and wrenching Kamoshida's arm from Ann.
"Go." He says more gently that Ren thought he was capable of.
"Ryuji?!" Ann replies, tears already misting up in her eyes, but she understands. Not wasting any time, she nods and flees.
"Hey, wait. I wasn't done with you yet!" Kamoshida calls out, but she turns the corner without looking back.
"Lay off, asshole!" Ryuji yells, twisting Kamoshida's arm to face him. "The hell do you think you're doing? I'm tired of your shit!"
"And what do you think you're doing talking like that to my face, huh? Impudent brats should know their place!" With a face of unrivaled anger at Ryuji's very existence, Kamoshida kicks him right in the chest, sending him tumbling to the floor.
Ryuji groans and gets back up to his feet a little sluggish. He shakes it off and advances again. Raising his fists.
The crowd of students preparing for the first day of school being to circle, as is unspoken tradition for a fight.
"You're afraid?" Arsene asks Ren. "There is something you can do. Something only you can. Is it not your responsibility? You said you have the resolve. It's the perfect opportunity to prove it."
Ren's right hand clenches into a fist. His whole arm shakes and tingles in a gentle burn, with an energy he can't fully contain. Like adrenaline cordoned itself off only to his dominant arm, and the thrill of rebellion coursing through his heart with every thunderous beat.
"Ryuji. I said I'd help. So, let me try something, alright?" Ren says, putting a hand on Ryuji's shoulder.
Ryuji grins. "Glad you came around. With the two of us I'm a lot more confident. He's going down."
"You can feel it, can't you?" Arsene smirks, knowing the answer, but expecting a response all the same. A genuine expression of glee that Ren just seems to be able to picture. Nobody else can, obviously, as the menacing figure isn't pointed out by any of the crowd that's gathered to watch the confrontation. The good-for-nothing delinquent. The murderous transfer student, with a reputation more demonic than his visage, fighting the star of the school? For students, there's no more entertaining violence than that.
Kamoshida also has a cocky look to him. An underserved self-assured smile. "Bring it on, there's nothing you can do." He spits, the pinkish saliva splattering over the school's crest on Ren's new uniform.
"I can." Ren says under his breath.
The two men stand a mere three meters from each other. Just two steps out of the danger zone. Kamoshida's stature dwarfs Ren's, and although it might be a foolish belief, there are a decent few in the crowd who place their bets on the new kid.
Kamoshida has longer arms, and so when Ren steps forward first, Kamoshida punches Ren right in the cheek. It was faster than he was ready for, and so Ren stumbles backward, tasting his own blood. But with how badly he was in pain yesterday, he's surprised to find how bearable the punch felt.
"There's only so much I can do for you in a pinch, but you've undertaken a wonderful pact with me, so I'm fine with letting you enjoy a few perks." Arsene says in that deep staccato of his. "You won't need those bandages anymore. I patched you up last night so the prosecutor wouldn't notice."
"But how?" Ren asks. "You're not… here."
"There's a lot you have to learn." Arsene says, pointing to Kamoshida. "Not to worry. Focus only on the opponent in front of you."
Ren looks down at his arms. Taking off the bandages from over his left hand where the glass had punctured him just a day ago, he finds it miraculously healed. Ren lets the bloodied bandages fall to the ground. Feeling more at ease. His lack of injury frees him of burden. His body is fresh and revitalized thanks to these inexplicable forces.
"You good? That's a lot of blood." Ryuji says in obvious concern.
Kamoshida seems to stiffen just a bit too. Even if this school is his domain, the delinquent is an outsider. One Kamoshida advocated against personally. There's no telling how dangerous he is beyond his assault case. Maybe he's carrying a knife, or worse.
"I'm good. I'm feeling great, actually."
Ren once again leads them. Both Ryuji and Ren enter Kamoshida's range at the same time. Kamoshida identifies Ren correctly as the bigger threat, but Ren anticipates Kamoshida's punch. Now, with a better sense of Kamoshida's range, he only suffers a glancing blow as he redirects Kamoshida's punch with his forearm.
Isolating that arm, Ryuji helps a great deal with Kamoshida's free left arm. With Kamoshida's right arm hooked between Ren's arm and body, trapped in that hold, Ren pushes his arm forward. Finally in range, Ren shoves his palm with impeccable aim right against Kamoshida's solar plexus. A chord of energy sparks from Ren's arm and threatens to burst free like an overclocking electronic.
"Unfurl." Ren chants, his palm flat against Kamoshida's chest. A revolting feeling, touching such a man. But quickly, almost instantaneously, that feeling of warmth is burnt away by one much more intense. At first it's a ripple outward from Ren's palm. Then, a flash of light bursts through Kamoshida's clothing, like nonsensical patterns of paint as a slash opens outward. From Kamoshida's body opens a layer in the shape of an eye that rapidly widens, expanding to encompass the three combatants. The vulgar blonde haired kid, the volleyball coach, and the delinquent all disappear without a trace. No smoke, no illusions. No curtain to hide them. They're gone. And with them, they stole the words of the students. For the first time that day, the hall of Shujin was filled by a hush of extraordinarily rare silence.
Fuchū Prison. 9:12 PM.
"Goro Akechi, is it?" a disgruntled police officer says. Judging by the insistent stubble on his face, Akechi would pin him around 50 years old. A good guess.
"That's right. I'm here to interrogate an inmate within this facility, Shinji Kagawa. It should be documented within your records." Regardless, he presents the relevant Id, which is inspected and cleared.
"I think you're getting special treatment." He says bluntly. "Both you and prosecutor Niijima working together, jumping through the ranks like it's nothing."
"I must say I'm rather offended." Akechi replies, surprised by the gall of the officer. "Still, to speak your mind so freely makes my work easier. So, you suspect us of foul play, is that right? Leveraging the system somehow, plucking favors from wherever we can to leave the ordinary behind?"
The officer's face twitches in anger at the thought of being called 'ordinary' and his hand finds a comfortable place at his hip near his holster, but that's the extent of it.
Akechi smiles at the officer's gesture. I hit a sore spot there, didn't I. "I can assure you we haven't committed any of the foul play you suspect, but what does my word count for? If you dislike me, nothing I say will disprove that belief in your head. I can't tamper with what's going on up there." He says, pointing towards his own temple. "It's a rare thing indeed, and an honor to witness, but there's sometimes a talent that stands outside the rules for the greater good. People that, if confined to such basic regulations, would only be held back by simpletons."
"Just get in there, you know you have the permits. Second floor, sixth cell. Kenji, you're with him." The man grunts.
"Yes sir." The prison guard, supposedly named Kenji, replies. A nondescript looking man. Decently built and with short cut brown hair. But as Akechi would say, this isn't a place for exceptional people.
Inmates of all sorts are housed in this prison. It's a rather large one, and one that Akechi wouldn't particularly like to spend his days exploring. It's all the same dreary stories after all. Every wall looks the same. Every inmate in the same clothing. Most prisons tell the same stories regardless of country or institution. That makes them dangerous and boring places. However, to Akechi, they are little more bother than gnats. Although a prison break would provide pretty serious issues, so would a plane crash. So to say, both are extremely unlikely events. Dread risks, if you will.
Akechi tugs at the collar of his beige button up jacket. It's a few shades lighter than the darker brown of his hair.
"I appreciate the escort of course, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave once we arrive." Akechi says.
"What? Why?" Kenji replies, sounding incredulous. "You don't want a guard?"
"Don't be so worried now. I assure you I can handle myself. It's not a commentary on you or anything of the sort. Rather in my experience I've found inmates tend to be a little less forthcoming in the presence of more company. The intimate environment of a one on one tends to make them feel safe. That's when I can do my best work."
Kenji purses his lips, seeming to think it over. But, ultimately he concedes. Akechi's reputation precedes him. Even if they don't like it, he's an authority somewhere out of their jurisdiction.
Now in the general vicinity of the cell he's been directed to, Akechi fiddles with his sleeve. A few minutes pass before he's satisfied, and then he finally addresses the man he's come to see. With a sharp rap on the metal, Akechi sits on the floor casually within reach. Right up against the bars, Akechi sits looking out at the countless other cells on the far wall.
"Let's talk, shall we Shinji?"
Inmate number 702. Shinji Kagawa.